Checkmate (ShizuoxIzaya)
by trainwrekt
Summary: The two regarded each other for a brief moment, mocha brown eyes meeting nasty red, before the newcomer stated in a matter-of-fact tone, "I don't like you."


**A/N: And so, it happens to be that this is my first Durarara (Drrr), Shizaya/Izuo at that, fanfic. Don't judge too harshly, but criticism/reviews are always more than welcome! If the first chapter fares well, then I'll continue. Beware, it's OOC, and Psyche is making an appearance!**

 **Disclaimer: Of course, I do not own the wonderful masterpiece that is Drrr. Nor do I own the amazing characters, as much as I'd love to. I do not wish to gain profit and...you get the picture.**

 **Warning: BxB love. Yaoi. The gayz. You know, what Izaya and Shizuo are.**

* * *

Chess was a strategic game of wits, tactics, and sacrifices.

The objective was relatively simple. Eliminate all, or skillfully evade and trap the king. Alias the boring centerpiece, limited to one move in any given direction. The rosewood piece resembled a disposable pawn, disregarding physical appearance. However, their attack method was nearly the same.

The resplendent queen, on the contrary...she was of immense power. Highly unpredictable. A damsel _out_ of distress. Capable. In control.

Those particular characteristics are what made her his, twelve-years-young Orihara Izaya, favorite player to manipulate on the standard checkered board.

At a young age, the future information broker of Ikebukuro was infatuated with the concept of manipulation. When it came to controlling, it was as easy as breathing, and equally as addicting. It had the same effects as nicotine. The more he did it, the more he craved. The more difficult it was to stop.

However, just like chess, he had to sacrifice something in return. Nothing came free in this bleak and cruel world.

He had sacrificed his humanity.

\- SKIPPEROO -

For the umpteenth time that very day, he was reprimanded by his oh-so-wonderful guardian.

Blood-red crimson optics hooded with disinterest, he rested his clean shaven chin in the groove of his palm, half-listening and half-tuning out the furious voice of his unyielding father.

Izaya would periodically flick his bored gaze to the metallic clock mounted on the far wall, calculating the time that had passed. The lecture was lasting longer than the usual two hours. Rejoice. A new record.

The raven-haired adolescent was about to voice this out verbally when the older Orihara dryly said, "Why can't you be more like your brother?"

He stiffened, uncharacteristically alert. Well. What an unexpected turn of events. Something not even he could predict would happen. "I beg your pardon?"

Hearing his son speak up for the first time since the scolding, was momentarily caught off guard. Forcefully clearing his throat to rid of any slick mucus, the middle-aged man quickly amended with, "Your older brother is the perfect example for you. And yet this is how you turned out to be."

Izaya tilted his heart-shaped face in such a way that caused his pitch black fringe to brush across his forehead, veilling his maroon eyes. "Ah, yes, Psyche. My generous, sociable, loved twin. A pure and innocent child, unlike that of his tainted brother."

There was a strange lilt to his chilling tone. If his caretaker noticed, he didn't interrupt to comment on it.

"Me, the sullied but intelligent, successful, pitied prodigy." His frail shoulders trembled once, but was effortlessly hidden by a dejected shrug. It was fairly easy to pretend. Especially since he'd been pretending the entire short span of his life. "'Oh, what a shame. If he were more like Psyche, he'd be likable. He'd have friends, perhaps even a girlfriend. Too bad he's a sociopath.'"

He leaned forward in his seat to inspect his father's worn face at a closer proximity, a mirthless smile quirking up the corners of his plump lips. "I've heard it all, father. The things you and your acquaintances discuss when you think I'm not paying attention."

His father opened his mouth to retaliate, to explain, but his youngest son beat him to it. "Don't pretend." How hypocritical of him. "I know I'm insane." He thrust out his hands, acknowledging the entirety of the universe. "And I welcome it! I accept it with open arms!"

A crazed laugh spilled from his lips, but the joy refused to reach his eyes. "Call me mentally disabled. Arrange an appointment to the doctors for me. I don't care." He fished out his prized queen from the confinements of his skinny jeans and placed her atop the family dining table. "But _never_ compare me to my idiot of a brother."

\- SKIPPEROO -

Psyche was adored by many. Worshipped, even. He was everything Izaya was not.

He glared bitterly at the back of his twin's bobbing head as they skirted the trash-strewn streets. What was so great about him, anyway? Was it because he looked vulnerable and harmless? Was it because he was so easy to figure out and read?

He slanted his already narrowed eyes. What made people attracted to Psyche, and not to him? Why was _he_ preferred in favor of the two? The universe was full of unsolved mysteries.

Perhaps it was because the boy always had something to smile about. There was a light spring to his step, and cheeriness practically emanated from the child. His tender laugh, like chimes tinkling in the wind, was rather contagious, and his salmon pink eyes glowed with friendliness.

"Iza-tan!" The annoying, shrill voice infiltrated his ears. Psyche was peering over his thin shoulder at him, excitement as broad as day in his eyes. "Do you remember the new friend I told you about? Shinra-san?"

His signature placid smirk slid into place, the bittersweet smile a whisper of its former self. "Why, yes. Yes, I do. Any sensible being would after hearing you drone on and on about him countless times."

His twin lightly giggled, despite the fact there wasn't any humor behind his words. "Iza-tan, you're always so silly!" He ruffled the top of the younger's head, earning a glower of disapproval. "He introduced me to Shizuo-kouhai!"

"Good for you, dear brother. Your list of friends persists to cease." _And mine remains stagnant._ He fiddled with the hem of his fur coat, relishing the softness of the pelt with his fingertips _. Although I don't mind. Not one bit. I simply can't afford to show favoritism towards specific humans. It wouldn't be fair to-_

"I think you'd like him, Iza-tan." The sudden seriousness was a nice surprise from Psyche's usual lightheartedness. "He reminds me of you."

"Oh?" The syllable was forced through clenched teeth. Smirking usually came to him easily, but today it took an unnecessary amount of effort. "Do enlighten me."

Psyche, to his discern, launched into a full rant. "He doesn't fit in with the other kids and he's alone all the time. He's very rowdy, violent, and...everything having to do with bad." The older Orihara jumped up onto the lip of the stone fountain, horizontally holding out his arms to maintain balance. "He's super, duper strong, like superman. Everyone's scared of him."

"Mmm..." A hum reverberated from Izaya's throat distractedly. "It's no wonder he's such a social outcast."

"Anyway, I was scared, too." Psyche leaped down from the ornamental structure, scattering a flock of pigeons on his way down. "But when I got to know him better, he was really nice. And, even though he's violent, he hates violence..."

"Ah, a walking contradiction. How fascinating." Izaya caught a silky feather that fluttered downwards between his slender forefinger and thumb, turning the appendage to examine the bristles. "For a brain as undeveloped as yours, you are quite observant. You sure are admirable in your own way, big brother."

"But Iza-tan's smart! And funny!" Once more, Psyche giggled, though now through the gaps his fingers formed. "And brave!"

As being egoistic and narcissistic was in his nature, he shamelessly agreed. "For once, you got something right! Congratulations." He noticed the look Psyche was giving him and added, "If you're wondering, I'm not interested."

Psyche jutted out his lower lip into a pout. Izaya casted off the urge to strangle himself. Ew, that was what he would look like if he were pouting. Ew, ew, what an atrocious sight. "Please, Ita-tan! Give him a chance. I promise you'll like him."

"AHAHA!" The shorter barked out a harsh laugh. None too kind. "Oh, one moment. AHAHAHA-Ahem. Allow me to guess. Were we going to bond over our mutual loneliness?"

Befuddlement contorted Psyche's features. "Ita-tan-OH! THERE HE IS!"

Luckily, Izaya had snatched the neon pink headphones from his brother's neck and was muffling the high-pitched voice with the memory foam.

The Orihara in the ivory coat wildly waved his arms around to gain Shizuo's attention. "KOUHAI! KOUHAI! OVER HERE!" Unfortunately, to his misfortune, the older succeeded.

The mud-brown haired boy loped over, accidentally crushing a local park bench along the way. How, Izaya didn't know, but it peaked his interest, despite what he'd said earlier.

He paused just shy of the two identical twins, not even bothering to hide the glances he sneaked at Psyche.

"Shizuo-kouhai, Iza-tan! Iza-tan, Shizuo-kouhai!" He cheerily clasped his hands together. "I hope you two get along! You're going to be the best of friends. I just know it!"

"Pleased to meet you." Ignoring his embarrassing brother, Izaya extended a stiff hand. He lifted a perfect brow when the latter didn't take it. "You _do_ know to greet people, do you not-

The two regarded each other for a brief moment, mocha brown eyes meeting nasty red, before the newcomer stated in a matter-of-fact tone, "I don't like you."


End file.
